


Faith and Fidelity

by yunmin



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Loyalty, Military, Military Trial, Post-Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, Pre-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, Rebellion-Era, Rogue Squadron, past relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 10:32:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8574925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yunmin/pseuds/yunmin
Summary: Wedge Antilles is pulled up on charges following a battle gone wrong. Leia Organa attempts to get them thrown out.That might possibly be easier if it wasn’t common knowledge that they’d slept together, and Leia’s judgement wasn’t being constantly questioned. But Wedge has done so much for her in the past, it’s only right she does this for him.Especially seeing as he can’t possibly be guilty of what he’s accused of.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spookykingdomstarlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/gifts).



Leia Organa is working through a pile of datawork when an impatient knock sounds at her door, followed by someone bursting right through it.

For a moment, she dares to wonder if it could be Luke or Lando or Chewie back early with information about Han. Then she hears the “Ma’am,” and she looks up and it isn’t any of them.

“What is it, Lieutenant Klivian?” she asks. Hobbie is panting against her door, and has the most dreadful look of fright about him.

“It’s Wedge, ma’am, Princess.” He’s struggling to get his words out. Something has clearly happened. Rogue Squadron – they were on a mission, weren’t they? Hobbie’s flight-suit would certainly indicate that. He’s still got his life support gear on. Possibly has run over here straight from his ship. And it’s not like it’s a short distance from the hangar to her office.

“What about Wedge?” she asks, when he gives her nothing more.

Hobbie looks defeated, sagging against her door. “They’ve arrested him, ma’am,” he says, after several shallow breaths.

Leia is on her feet in an instant. She’s still not in possession of all the facts, but she knows this one thing: Wedge Antilles is a man of honour, and the chances that he’s guilty of whatever he’s accused of are low.

.

“What are the charges?” she demands, the moment she steps into the briefing room off the hangar.

“Disobeying orders,” a Bothan General whose name Leia has long since relinquished to the back of her head responds.

Leia looks around the room. The remaining members of Rogue Squadron all look tense. Tycho Celchu has his arms folded and looks ready to explode. There’s no chance that it's just that.

“With respect, sir,” Leia says. She might not care much who this is, but they do outrank her. “Rogue Squadron and its commanders have a history of creatively reinterpreting their orders in a way some might consider insubordinate. You wouldn’t have pulled him up on charges on just that.”

She eyes the man standing beside the Bothan General. His name… Salm? she thinks. She hopes he will give her the answers she's looking for. “Dereliction of duty, too, ma’am,” he replies, voice a little uncertain under Leia’s cool glare. “Possibly treason.”

That isn’t Wedge. It isn’t. Still, Leia knows what will happen if he’s found guilty of those charges. Hobbie – and the others – are right to be worried.

She feels the cold wash over her, freezing her to a stand-still, while there’s a sharp pain in her gut. She can’t. She can’t lose another friend. Not after all that’s happened.

She can’t do this now. Wedge needs her. “I want a full report. Written. And if you’re going to file the charges please do so correctly, and formally.”

“They’ve been filed, ma’am,” Tycho says, in a small voice.

Already? “That was awfully quick,” she comments. Suspiciously. Almost like there is something else is going on here. “Still. I want that report. And I want to speak to Commander Antilles. As soon as possible.”

Salm and the General look set to deny her the request, so Leia puts on the face learned at her mother’s knee. _I am royalty, and you will listen to what I say_. Thankfully, they do.

“Of course, Princess,” Salm responds. “Now? I can take you to the brig.”

“No,” she says. “I would speak with Lieutenant Celchu first. And I am quite capable of finding the way myself.”

She puts enough of a chill into her voice that he simply nods and makes his way out, leaving Leia alone with the remnants of Rogue Squadron.

“What the bloody hell happened?” she asks, not just to Tycho but the entire squadron.

“Kre’fay is an idiot who would see us all dead for a propaganda victory is what happened!” Wes Janson says in response.

Leia cuts him off with a glare and focuses her attentions on Tycho, the one most likely to give her a coherent answer. “We were on a mission. _Lightnook_ , did you receive the briefing?” Leia nods. She hadn’t liked the look of it one bit, but she’d been overruled. “We got ambushed, half way through. Wedge had already creatively reinterpreted our orders – as he and Luke tend to do – so we weren’t quite where we were supposed to be. Salm’s fighter wing got cut up by TIE fighters, and we lost the _Jeloveen_.”

“And I suppose they’re arguing that if you'd been where you said you had orders to be, that wouldn’t have happened?”

“More than that, ma’am.” One of the female pilots speaks up. She’s new. Leia can’t quite remember her name. Illo, or something like that? “All of us survived the skirmish. They’re saying that Wedge must have known about the ambush, or plotted it. How could he have avoided it otherwise?”

If true, that would be treason. Leia feels her heart sink in her chest. She doesn’t believe it, but she understands how it looks.

“And if you had been where you were supposed to be?” Leia asks. She fears she knows the answer to that.

“We’d have been cut to shreds,” Tycho responds. “And frankly, so would Salm’s Y-wings. No telling whether the _Jeloveen_ might have been saved, but I wouldn’t bet on it.”

That’s a point in Wedge’s favour, but Leia doesn’t know whether it’ll be enough. “And the creative reinterpretation of orders – is anyone likely to see any sense in that?”

There’s some grimacing around the pilots.

“Great,” Leia says. She knows those looks. Has sat through enough briefings where Luke attempted to defend his mission choices, and the flummoxed looks on the Command Staffs’ faces. “So the one person who might be able to explain his actions is currently on the other side of the Galaxy.” She shakes her head. “I’m going to see what I can do. Though I’m not sure what I can.”

“Good luck,” Tycho says.

.

You sleep with a guy once—

Well, alright, more than once, but it’s hardly common knowledge exactly how long their relationship went on for. The Rebellion’s gossip mill just knows that they did sleep together. Which is enough for Kre’fay’s aide to give Leia a truly obnoxious look, when she asks after a copy of the formalised charges. Leia stands her ground. This has no bearing on her ability to deal with the case. Though, if it comes to court, Leia wouldn’t bet against it being dragged up, if she attempts to defend him.

The members of the guard look similarly unconvinced, but Leia outranks them, and she has clearance, and finally she is ushered inside his small cell.

Wedge Antilles looks up at her, and Leia feels her heart break at the sight of him in binders, restrained, when all he did was save the lives of his pilots. When he sees her, his face lights up, and he puts on the most brilliant smile. “It’s good to see you,” he says.

“Wedge—”

Leia’s voice wobbles, and his brow furrows in concern.

“Don’t worry about me,” he says, looking at her in concern. And that’s so like him, putting someone else first, that Leia finds herself collapsing.

Not quite into his arms – she couldn’t even if she wanted to – but… she thinks about it.

“Wedge, they want to court-martial you. For treason!” Leia protests. For once in his life, Wedge should be selfish. It’s his life on the line, potentially. “If you’re found guilty, they’ll… they’ll… they’ll execute you.”

It’s a good thing there’s no one else in the room, because there is nothing dignified about the tremor in her voice, or the fear she knows is written across her face.

“It’s a good thing I’m not guilty then, isn’t it?” he says.

Leia can’t believe how calm he is about this. “And you’ve got faith that the evidence will be shown that way? Wedge, I’ve spoken to Kre’fay, and his aides: he’s going to come after you for this. It’s not just some joke, putting you in the brig for a minor disobedience issue. He really intends to see you go down for this.”

“I’ve got faith.”

His voice is steady and quiet and self-assured.

“In you,” he says, as she looks at him with a questioning expression. “And Luke. And Tycho. And the Rebellion. It’ll work itself out, Leia.”

She shakes her head again. She’s not so sure it will.

Then there’s a rap at the door. “Ma’am, your time’s up,” one of the guards calls.

“I’m going to get you out of this,” Leia says, because if she makes the promise aloud then she has to keep it. She’s going to try her hardest. She bites her lip, then leans over to place a kiss on his cheek. He catches her hand, looking at her so sincerely with those warm brown eyes, and she feels how much he trusts her.

She kisses the corner of his mouth, just briefly, squeezing his hand. “I’ll see you soon,” she says, before leaving.

Time to pay back Wedge’s loyalty.

.

She loves Han.

She does; that’s not changed, not in any of the months since he was taken from her. She loves him and she misses him every day.

But she found enough in Wedge she liked to take him to bed before, and that hasn’t just gone away. He’s a good man. A loyal man. One who’s been by her side and backed her up countless times. She’s fond of him.

Leia has no wish to see anyone executing for unjust charges, but she’ll admit that her personal feelings are coming into play here.

Which makes things even harder when she goes all the way to Mon Mothma to ask her to interfere.

“Leia,” Mon says, in her quarters, signalling Leia to sit down. “You must understand how this looks.”

Leia does not sit down. “He’s a friend. He’s done nothing wrong.”

“I know that,” Mon says, keeping her voice perfectly level. “And whether he has done anything wrong will be decided by a tribunal. But your interference will be looked upon dimly. Especially considering the existing situation with Captain Solo.”

“This has nothing to do with Solo.”

Mon looks at Leia through narrowed eyes. “Most think that I am unaware of the rumours and gossip that permeate the Rebellion. You know that I am not. The amount of support Commander Antilles has given you since you returned from Bespin has not gone unnoticed. Especially in light of previous… allegations, about the nature of your relationship.”

“If I was a man, those allegations wouldn’t count against me,” Leia argues.

Mon sighs, deep. “No. They probably wouldn’t. But they will.” She smooths out the material of her long skirts. “Especially given that there is a degree of truth to them.”

“We’re friends, Mon. Nothing more.”

“But you were once,” Mon comments. She says it without judgement, and Leia sits there with folded hands. She can’t argue with that. “I admit to a certain degree of fondness concerning Commander Antilles as well. He’s refreshingly straightforward and writes mission notes which are almost actually bearable to read. And I sincerely doubt he is guilty of what Kre’fay has accused him of. But I cannot be shown to be partisan, you know that.” Mon holds her head up, straight and graceful. “I will ensure that someone friendly, or at least neutral, to Commander Antilles is appointed to the tribunal. That’s all I can do.”

It’s not a lot. But it is, at least, a start. “Thank you Mon,” Leia says.

“Thank me when you’ve secured his freedom,” Mon says. She stands up. “Go. I think you’ve got a lot of work to do. Find some actual evidence that he isn’t guilty. Then you can interfere to your heart’s content.”

.

Leia gets her hands on the _Lightnook_ mission logs and locks her office door.

The first order of business; to know exactly what happened. Descriptions from Tycho or Wedge or Kre’fay aren’t actually helpful; the mission logs will back her up in court.

The pilots comms were all logged, and Leia pulls up the data file and sets it playing. She often tunes into the pilots frequencies when she’s ship bound, listening to the banter amongst the CAP. It’s reassuring, background noise.

Here, she listens intently, for anything that could prove or absolve Wedge’s guilt.

He’s a different man, in the cockpit. Cool and calm and collected. On the ground, he tends to be a little awkward. Not deficient, in any way, just… Uninteresting, almost. You wouldn’t pick him out of a crowd as one of the Rebellion’s greatest pilots. He’s an unassuming man on the ground, and Leia has seen her fair share of people get caught out by that.

(She’s been caught out by it.)

It’s the usual squadron chatter; Janson cracking jokes, Hobbie being morose. Wedge, managing them all deftly. It’s harder later, when the screams of the Y-Wing pilots start to permeate the feed.

Leia can understand Salm’s concern. And Kre’fay’s. This was bad.

It doesn’t render Wedge responsible.

She watches a reconstruction of the battle. Starfighter tactics were never her speciality – she does fine on the ground, can work her way around the big ships too, but snubfighters? They’re a different kettle of fish. She can fly well enough, and follow orders, but comprehending what Luke and Wedge see up there… that’s beyond her.

If it was Luke, they could blame his gut feeling for avoiding the conflict and the slaughter on the Force. That would be that. Wedge doesn’t have that gift. He has a degree of situational awareness that mimics it, sometimes – that’s how he keeps up with Luke, long years of experience blurring with good instincts to make up some for that lack of extra awareness.

If you don’t fly a Starfighter, aren’t aware of how much information races through your head and the speed at which you have to process it, then—

The Rogues were right. It’s going to be difficult to make Wedge’s tactical choices appear valid.

Is it too late to ask Mon if she can find a Starfighter pilot to serve on the Tribunal? Do they even have one of senior enough rank and experience? (Leia suspects not; the war has claimed the lives of most of them.)

Leia runs her hands through her hair, pulling out strands as she goes.

This is politics. Essentially. Military affairs. She can handle those. This isn’t a bounty hunter or the waves of criminal enterprise. This is her area of expertise.

She might not be able to do much to help Han, not at this point, but she can help Wedge.

.

That night, she remembers.

Dark hair and dark eyes and that hideous shade of orange. Clever, long, fingers, darting exactingly over machinery and the thought of what else they could do.

When she finally took him to her bed, she’d spent enough hours thinking about it, and had been pleasantly surprised when he’d not only met her expectations but exceeded them.

(Looking back, she doesn’t know what she was surprised: Wedge applies the same focus and intent to sex as he does to flying an X-Wing. The results are the same. He’s very good at what he does.)

It had been after a battle. A battle where they’d lost people, a lot, and guilt and grief had hung in the air. She’d argued with Han, eschewed Luke’s sunshine optimism, and found a grim Wedge; who’d sat her down and offered her a drink and no platitudes, just solid company. She’d appreciated that. And appreciation and adrenaline from the battle and desperation at life had led to…

Well. She remembers it clearly enough.

That had been the first time. It hadn’t been the last.

It was partially because he was good; partially because he was discrete; partially because he had no real interest in pursuing a relationship with her beyond the one they had. Those three traits combined into everything Leia wanted in a lover. She’d sought him out in times when she needed a distraction, when Han had driven her up the wall with frustration: he’d come to her when he lost pilots and comrades and had worshipped her and found solace with his mouth between her thighs.

For the most part, it had stayed secret. She hadn’t wanted to give any ammunition to Han, hadn’t wanted to hurt Luke’s feelings. Wedge’s natural instincts were to keep things private. It’s no one’s fault, the one time they did get caught, and they’d managed to wave it off as a solitary thing.

That hadn’t been the last time, but it had been one of the last. There hadn’t been a conscious decision to stop; they’d just sought each other out less. A long posting to different bases had followed, and…

Leia doesn’t regret it ending. She doesn’t regret it happening, either. And Wedge has been a solid friend throughout everything.

She rolls over in her bunk, clutching at her pillow. She needs to sleep. She’s no good to anyone like this – not that she’s got a lot of sleep, these past months, she’s learnt to keep going on a steady stream of Caf – and she has to stop turning thoughts of Wedge over and over in her head.

She finds sleep in the early hours of the morning, fragmented and disjointed but it’s something.

Her dreams are haunted by a Corellian voice and Leia doesn’t even know if it belongs to Han or Wedge.

.

“Morning, Commander.”

And that's another thing to put on the long list of reasons why Leia would miss Wedge – he’s one of the few who uses her military title as a default, instead of calling her Princess. She likes that.

The days in the brig are wearing on him, though. His hands are still bound. His hair is untidy. There are bags beneath his eyes. Leia’s here early enough that she’d brought his breakfast tray in with her, and she sits and watches him pick at the offerings, without much sense of interest.

“We’ve got you a lawyer,” Leia says, as he eats. “Tycho and Hobbie managed to find one, miraculously, amongst the recruits. And Admiral Ackbar’s been appointed to the Tribunal. Which is good news.”

“They’re going ahead with it?”

Wedge looks at her with wide eyes and Leia is immediately struck with a sense of failure.

“I couldn’t get them to drop the charges. I tried – but Mon Mothma was quite clear that I couldn’t interfere, not like that, on account of…” Leia trails off. “Well, you know.”

Wedge raises his eyebrows. “Oh. Great. My life’s on the line because Mon Mothma’s worried about sensibilities.”

Leia doesn’t know what to do with her hands. “It isn’t like that – I’m sorry, I—” She moves to sit next to him, not meeting his eyes. “I did what I could. I’m sorry it wasn’t more.”

“I know,” Wedge says. “I’m sorry. I’m just… tense, I guess. I want this to be over.”

Leia turns her head to look up at him. He’s staring at her intently. She’s never harboured any illusions that he had serious feelings for her, not that way, but in that moment she can see why someone would think that. “If I could think of a way to get you out of here faster, I’d do it,” she says.

“I know.”

Leia’s still bowed over by the weight of trust he’s placing in her. She doesn’t know how to respond. She finds herself distracted by how messy his hair is, and spends a few minutes combing it out with her fingers, untangling knots and smoothing it down. It’s relaxing. Therapeutic.

When she’s done, she strokes her fingers along his jawline and lifts his chin. “I won't let them execute you,” she says.

“I never thought you would,” he responds.

.

Leia’s not there when the tribunal starts.

She doesn’t know whether it’s intentional or not. She wouldn’t put it past Mon Mothma and Command to give her a mission to get her away from all this, but she thought she’d made it clear to Mon what being here for Wedge meant to her.

She is hurried across the hangar and to a ship with General Rieekan, Tycho racing after her, making promises that he might not be able to keep about keeping Wedge safe.

“He’ll be fine, Princess,” Rieekan says, as they hurtle across the stars to the other side of the galaxy to solve some crisis Leia is still not sure of the details of. “This whole trial is a farce.”

“With respect, Carlist, I’d feel much better about this if you were on the tribunal,” Leia says.

“Your loyalty to him is commendable, Leia.” Rieekan looks at her with concern. “He’ll be fine. You know what some of the troops call him.”

Leia does. _Unkillable_. She doesn’t want to test it.

(She also hates the pitying way that Rieekan looks at her. He was on Hoth. He knows, perhaps too well, how she feels about Han. And now, with this situation with Wedge… Leia doesn’t need pity. She needs everything to be fixed. She needs Han back. And Wedge free to fly in his X-Wing. That will make everything better.

Not looks of sympathy. They do nothing.)

Still, there’s nothing more she can do from here. She throws herself into the relief effort, tumbling back into her bunk each night with exhaustion and does not dream. Every morning, she checks her messages, and there is nothing. Not from Lando, not from Luke, not from Wedge. Every morning, she looks over at Rieekan, studying his face, to see if he’s got a message that she hasn’t.

From this crisis, she and Rieekan are passed to another, and Leia gets so caught up in work that she almost forgets what she’d been so concerned about in the first place.

.

From the bridge of the _Mon Levara_ , Leia issues an order for them to cover the retreat of the civilian convoy they’re escorting. She can see the looks on the faces of the officers: it’s a sacrificial move, cold calculation about the lives of the soldiers on the _Levara_ and the civilians on the transports.

The A-Wings are whizzing about, as fast as the TIE fighters, but they’re outnumbered, and concerned with picking off the TIEs that are chasing the civilian convoy, not protecting the _Mon Levara._ Leia grips the display in front of her as the ship shakes under a buffet of laser fire. An officer calls out decreasing shield percentages. Leia starts readying herself for the worst.

Then.

A whoop of delight over the comm channel.

“Triple-ace!” A voice shouts. There are a bunch of new signatures lighting up on the board. Starfighters.

X-Wings.

“Noted, Rogue Nine, but can it,” a voice says. Corellian. Calm. “ _Mon Levara_ , this is Rogue Leader. Follow your civilian friends. We’ve got this.”

That’s Wedge, and Leia’s relief is so palpable that she feels tears pricking at the corner of her eyes; not just that he’s here, swooping in to save the day, but that he’s _here_. Alive.

“Rogue Leader, this is _Levara_ actual, sending my thanks. See you at the rendezvous.”

Leia can’t help the smile that’s flitted on to her face. But she straightens it out, immediately setting to co-ordinating the retreat. She’ll see them soon enough.

.

At _Tenacious_ , the Rebellion’s nearest rendezvous point, Leia hands command back to Rieekan, debriefing him on the situation and the casualties. There are some; pilots, mostly, and a number of the deck crew who’d been attempting to fix a gap in the shield when they’d been hit.

By the time she’s dismissed, the pilots have landed, so Leia goes straight to the hangar.

They’re milling about, in orange, inspecting the damage to ships and each other. Wedge is in the middle of it all, and Leia stops to watch him for a moment. Leaning against the fuselage of an X-Wing, she observes as he good-naturedly chews Hobbie out for blast damage to his s-foils. This is when she likes him best, she thinks. Just off a mission where he hasn’t lost anyone, and some of that cockpit confidence lingers about him, making him shine.

Then Tycho catches sight of her and elbows Wedge, and Wedge turns to look at Leia. He smiles wide, and Leia finds herself running to him, throwing herself into his arms.

He catches her with ease, lifting her off her feet and twirling her round, and Leia’s laughing with delight. “You’re here, you’re here!” she says, unable to quite contain her jubilation. “Force I am glad to see you, Wedge.”

He laughs too, and it’s strong and bright and warm as he sets her back on the ground. “Good to see you too, Leia. And all in one piece.”

“Thanks to you,” she says. She laces her hands round his neck, as his settle on her waist.

“Just doing my job,” he says.

“I’m glad you’re back doing it,” Leia replies. “The Tribunal found in your favour, then?”

“They threw out the charges,” Wedge says. “Thanks to you.”

Leia blinks in surprise. That’s what she’d been trying to do since the start, but she’d been fairly convinced she’d failed miserably on that front. “What?”

Wedge tugs at her arm, and she follows him, ducking under an X-Wing to the other side, where they have at least the illusion of privacy. It’s not much, but it's something. “Intelligence found a leak. Cracken being persuaded to look on the strength of your conviction, and the evidence you presented. Nothing to do with me, or Rogue Squadron, thank goodness. So, thank you.”

She looks up at him. “I was just doing what you would have done, if our places were reversed.” Even as she says it, she thinks that Wedge would have fought harder; not rested until she’d been released; found the leak himself.

His mouth folds, and he bites his lip. Thinking of something to say, perhaps. “Thank you,” he finally says, repeating his earlier words.

“You’ve done so much for me Wedge, it was only right that I do something—” She stops. Those words are inadequate. She doesn’t know how to say what she wants to say.

Instead, she tugs his head down, and leans hers up just so, and kisses him. Briefly, but firmly, on the lips. “Thank you,” she says, meeting his gaze and hoping he understands what she means by all this.

She thinks he does. He holds her for a moment longer, then steps back.

“I’ve got a message from Lando and Chewie for you,” he says.

Leia gulps. “Han?” she queries.

Wedge softens. “I don’t know. I guess it must be, though. It came in just before we shipped out, and I figured you’d better be the first to see it.”

Later, she’ll view the message in the privacy of her chambers. It confirms what she suspected. They’ve found Han, on Tatooine.

For now, she allows herself another moment with Wedge, celebrating the fact that he’s alive and with her and by her side.

Small victories. That’s how they’ll win this war.


End file.
